Alliances and Bonds
by atrophia sanguinis
Summary: Corypheus has been pushed back and final alliances must be forged before the final confrontation. The Inquisition requests Ferelden to openly ally themselves in the final months of trying to save the world. Alliances are made and bonds are forged and all is tested. Will blossoming interests survive? Will Thedas? Inquisitor x Alistair
1. Prologue

_The night is long. The dawn will come._

 _Just not how some had expected it._

King Alistair. The title could still take him by surprise or after he had spent some time daydreaming about the old days. Old days meaning when he had traveled and quested with the woman who had became the love of his life. Of course, being the huge dork he was, Cousland had liked him in a brotherly fashion. Her interests spanned to Leliana and not to himself. That had been his luck but she'd been a true friend and leader. She'd always caught his bluff and early on, she had established that she didn't want to lead him on but the teasing could continue. Like an idiot Alistair had agreed and had grown more infatuated with her wit and charm. He tried to remember the good parts where their jokes made each other laugh. So, when he was addressed by the courier by his full title, Alistair seemed to wake up as if from a dream. He was reminded of reality. Warden Cousland had disappeared. Rumor had it for the cure to the curse of the taint.

At his side, Queen Anora looked up from the squabbling child in her arms to look at her husband expectantly and cleared her throat, waiting for him to reply to the courier's invitation. They were married only in name. While Alistair _had_ strived to connect with the regal woman, she kept him at arm's length. The only intimacy they shared had been the monthly visits to produce an heir which had been done successfully almost a year ago. Now Anora kept with her lover exclusively for such acts. Alistair hadn't thought of bringing in a lover to improve his poor life. His only joy currently was the little bundle in Anora's arm, babbling nonsense in baby talk. Hopefully about cheese. Alistair hoped his son would take more after himself rather than his mother for the sake of keeping someone with a quirky sense of humor like his. Like a fallen Warden's.

Alistair looked down to the courier dressed in the horrible green garbs of the Inquisition armor. The green reminded him of mold or the rifts which it was probably intended to represent. Probably not the best theme but it did its job reminding people what the Inquisition did. "Can you repeat that last bit?"

"Of course, Your Majesty. Lady Montilyet assures you will have the best quarters in Skyhold." The courier hastily replied.

Alistair frowned. That didn't help him understand what the gist was of what he had missed while daydreaming. "I mean the bit before that."

"Oh." The courier seemed to catch on that the king hadn't really been present in the moment when he had been speaking. He was probably used to it in his trade, bored lords waving him off and accepting the letter to read it in another week. "The Inquisitor hopes to ally with Ferelden and her King in a joint effort to rid Corypheus from Thedas. Orlais has already-"

"I'll go." Alistair said hastily, cutting the boy off. The key word had been Orlais, more so than Corypheus. He couldn't very well be outdone by some Orlesians...well by all of them if the Empire was allied with the Inquisition already. Word of Celene's ball had reached his court but by it'd been carried through so many people, the news was fuddled. He supposed the Inquisitor hadn't sent anything formal for an alliance until the Inquisition had taken more power after it took in the rebel mages and Alistair had been rather cranky about the whole ordeal months ago. The idea of mages running loose with the rifts had been even more unsettling after the recent birth of Duncan.

"I'll let the Lady Inquisitor know, Your Majesty." As the courier thanked him and bowed to leave, Alistair looked to his wife and then his son, placing a finger in the little one's tight grip. "The journey would be hard on him. You can stay here with Duncan and take care of things while I'm gone. "

Anora smirked. "That's wise. It won't be much different without you." Alistair smiled. No, it wouldn't. Anora handled most of the paperwork and smaller problems that didn't need his face of leadership anyway. The comment still had a sting to it, even if she hadn't meant to bite. They'd gotten over petty comments years ago. Bitterness would have crumbled their kingdom.

Alistair pressed a kiss to her brow and Duncan's little forehead before turning to go to his study and prepare for his journey. It would be interesting to see this Skyhold and how far the Inquisition had grown. Alistair tried to recall the Herald's face from the time they'd met but could barely put features together. He saw so many people daily. He did, however, remember there being a Grey Warden. Blackwall was his name. If he was still with the Inquisition, Alistair was eager on meeting him.


	2. Chapter 1

The spring day had started early. Snow was still melting in the shaded nooks of Skyhold but the weather had grown warmer. The Inquisitor rose with the sun and sometimes fell with it too if the day would be particularly exhausting. For Maren Trevelyan, every day was exhausting. Josephine kept guests busy so she didn't have to interact with them and effect their standing in the Game and Cullen did well in maintaining reports from his men as well as Leliana. Honestly, if it weren't for her advisors, the Inquisition would have crumbled. But still, there was always something to be done. Her inner circle had grown and that had created drama. Most of her companions did not approve of Maren allowing Cole to stay but most of her companions didn't stick around the infirmary to help the injured and dying.

Solas was busy with his painting and research and was decidedly distant when Maren would try to establish a friendship with him. Perhaps he assumed that since she wasn't an apostate like him, she was some bumbling fool who understood nothing. He wasn't half wrong but the egg head could be more pleasant.

Dorian still flirted with Maren, when he had the time. Mostly, he was in that tower above the tavern with Bull and probably scarring unfortunate passersby. Maren mourned the constant banter before the pair had discovered each other but was happy her friends had found...distraction with each other.

Blackwall didn't talk much and brooded in the stables. What may have been a blossoming relationship he had crushed instantly after reaching Skyhold, denying that they should go through with it. He'd been so insistent on it so Maren had given him space, which she regretted. They admired each other from a distance and were friendly enough, but some instances provided awkward tension. Especially when Josephine was present. Jealousy wasn't something Maren wanted to develop so she kept from the Warden as much as possible.

Vivienne preened herself over a balcony and her pretentiousness was enough to keep Maren at distance. While Maren respected the enchantress, her wit and tone didn't mix well with the Inquisitor. Even if their personalities clashed, if there was something magey Maren wanted to know, Vivienne was happy to provide it.

Cassandra sparred with Maren when they had the time but lately, Maren couldn't find the Seeker. Some witnesses claim she had holed up with some tome in hand. Maren assumed she shouldn't be interrupted, especially if she were reading religious items.

Varric was always writing. Or playing Wicked Grace. He was nice to chat with but he was still a busy dwarf with writing his serials and maintaining his business interests as they were. Maren let him be most of the time but sometimes he purposely tracked her down for a card game, ironically enough when she needed a distraction.

That left Sera. Dear Sera was always ready for a bout of fun. The way she thought and went about things were odd to Maren but she'd caught on to the mischief and had joined her in the occasional pranks. Occasional meaning weekly. Her inner circle being the main targets. Some had even gotten their revenge. Especially Leliana. Having your room flooded with nugs overnight was quite the experience. Most had run away but a few had domesticated to the life of Skyhold and trotted around.

Currently, Maren was relaxing with Sera between errands after a little round of pranks and drinks.

"You!" Josephine marched into the tavern.

"Oh, frig!" Sera shot up. "You did it!" She pointed at Trevelyan before dashing out and away before Maren could stop her and take the fall together.

The Inquisitor suddenly became the center of attention of the tavern as Josephine honed her sharp gaze on her. A tight smile to ease the other patrons' nerves crossed the ambassador's face. "Lady Inquisitor, if I could have a moment of your time."

"Of course." Maren replied, well aware she was probably about to be cast into deep shit. The tavern returned to its casual drone as she stood and left with the Antivan.

Maren followed Josephine back into the castle and into her office where at the entrance, a bucket and some slop was. Further in, a figure sat in a chair near the fireplace, trying to clean his face of the goo that had been in the bucket previously with a handkerchief Josephine had no doubt lent him. When he turned at the sound of their arrival, Maren paled. She was in such deep deep shit.

"I have to say, Inquisitor, I haven't been greeted like this as a guest before. Is this another cultural tradition from Ostwick?" King Alistair asked, trying to pull some of the goop from his hair. Josephine turned and gaven Maren the look. Maren pursed her lips, pressing back a laugh. She would have to tell Sera who the important idiot they had snared with their prank was. Sera would get some hearty cackles out of it.

Maren cleared her throat to recover. "King Alistair, if I'd known you would be arriving today, we would have prepared better." Josephine's burning gaze from the side was enough to know that this wasn't an apology she approved of.

"Oh and miss out on getting drenched in this...this...what is this?" He wrinkled his nose.

Maren glanced at Josephine before clasping her hands behind her back. "You don't really want to know." She said the words slowly.

The King of Ferelden looked at her for a long moment of seriousness. "Right. Well, it is nice to see you again, under better circumstances then last." He placed a gooey hand on her shoulder.

Maren's eyes widened, alarmed by his actions. "What are you doing?"

"I feel so bad with my behavior from before. We should hug it out. I believe that's the best way to resolve it. We'll be allies anyway. Hugs bring people together." Alistair continued, drawing closer.

Catching on, Maren tried to step back but he had a firm grip on her shoulder. She barely had enough time get the first sound of "No" out before she was crushed in a Fereldan bear hug. Over his shoulder, she could see Josephine smirking, satisfied that the insult had been repaid without need of a third party. Maren struggled to push him away, but alas his strength was greater than hers. Perhaps not even Cassandra would be able to escape this vice hug.

"Oh! Look at that! You've got something in your hair Inquisitor." His messy hand went to the back of her head. "Whoops. Looks like I've made it worse."

Josephine covered her mouth, eyes sparkling with laughter. Maren finally managed to push the King away, well, he pulled away, and looked down at herself, some of the slop still connecting the two in strings. He had done a swell job of sharing the sticky substance, most of it covering her front side. She was aware some of it had been wiped on her back and head. In all honesty, he looked cleaner than her now though his hair was still caked in the stuff.

"Well," Maren straightened up, carrying on as if this was indeed a traditional thing from her home, "now that the greetings are out of the way and all wounds are forgiven, Josephine, could you show our esteemed guest to his quarters. I've got some straightening up to do and I'm sure he does too. I'll meet with you soon to begin our negotiations." She bowed respectfully before turning back the way she came and going down the steps instead of going through the throne room to the kitchens. The poor staff would just have to deal with her stealing a barrel and some water so she could bathe in the cellars. Before she could disappear completely, she popped back up and looked to her ambassador. "Oh, and Josephine. If you could bring me some spare clothes."

"Of course, Inquisitor." Josephine smiled.

Alistair waved this time when Maren turned back down the steps. He was cheeky. Maren had heard rumors of how informal the king could be but experiencing it probably in its ultimate form was a whole different thing compared to hearing it. The whole situation had caught her off guard. She hadn't thought he would have responded so quickly to her, rather Josephine's, invitation by arriving unannounced.

Sighing, Maren went about laying her claim on an empty barrel and getting the chef to boil some water. The water had done its work and gotten the goo out of her hair. As for her clothes, she'd have them washed later.

Josephine did get clothes delivered. The garbs were less bland than the clothes Dorian would usually shield his eyes from whenever Maren wore them. They were the color of nug innards as he put it. Maren had agreed and never wore the blasted things again. The clothes sent were casual but could definitely pass as formal if she didn't slouch. The undershirt was plain white and the jerkin was an ashen gray and her breeches the color of coal. She put her old boots back on, the brown things having not been scarred by Alistair's hug, The soiled clothing was tucked in a shadowy corner, either to be forgotten or for Maren to randomly come upon later and take care of.

Finished and refreshed, Maren strolled out into the courtyard from the kitchens, planning on finishing the few errands she had been meaning to take care of before her little prank had gone overboard. A few chats with her followers, gardening, and checking up on the mage tower so she knew they weren't accidentally about to blow up the hold. Hawke had warned her such things were possible.

Hopefully at dinner, King Alistair's humor would still be intact and negotiations would be fruitful.


	3. Chapter 2

Alistair had certainly been set up in the best quarters. The room was large and had a great view of the mountains. There was a canopy bed and an interesting set of weaponry on the wall above it. How could anyone sleep under that? What if one of the maces or swords broke free and stabbed whomever was sleeping in the bed? Well, he supposed that was why the bed was canopy and had a wooden roof over it like a second small home.

Some snooping told him that this wasn't a mere guest bedroom. The Inquisition symbol on every rug and the banners on the wall. Papers on the desk were scrawled with neat handwriting, signed by Lady Inquisitor Maren Trevelyan. At least he now knew her actual name beyond "Inquisitor." That would have been awkward to ask about. Alistair wasn't really sure how to feel about the Inquisitor giving up her room during his stay, however long that ended up to be. It had taken a while to travel here. By all rights, he would be allowed to stay for as long as he wanted. Especially because he was a king even though he'd have to return back to Denerim as soon as could. It wasn't like he was really needed all the time but being away from little Duncan had taken some sunshine from his day. And now that he knew that the Inquisitor had given up her room for him, Alistair felt more pressed to leave as soon as he was able. It struck him a bit odd that she would, considering how large Skyhold was. Surely they had a guest rooms. He decided he'd inquire about it among other things when he saw the Inquisitor next.

His things had been delivered during the brief and interesting greeting with the Inquisition's ambassador and Inquisitor. Perhaps traveling under the radar wasn't the best way to travel for a king since his welcome wasn't anywhere near grand but Alistair didn't want to stir trouble or assassins even though he had guards and was well-equipped himself to take care of such matters. Or so he liked to think anyway. Surprisingly, the bucket of slop had been humbling and almost welcoming since it made him feel like a person somehow. And with the way Maren had looked at him after their embrace, it had been something similar to humbling for her too. The idea of an organization's leader pranking their associates was both amusing and tempting. If Alistair tried it, Anora wouldn't take it as lightly as he would, even if she wasn't the target.

A bark brought Alistair's attention away from the studious little corner to see his mabari. "You've settled in well, Porker." He grinned at the dog spread out on the canopy bed, amazed he hadn't noticed him before. Granted, the dog could pass for a pillow at certain angles. When he knelt down, Porker immediately hopped off the bed and tackled Alistair with slobber and kisses. From the ground, Alistair laughed and turned his head to the side. It was then that he noticed a door. It was cracked open between the dresser and bed. Curious, he pushed Porker off of him gently and stood, going to the door and opening it. A low whistle came from his mouth. "The Inquisitor has quite the stash." He said appraisingly at the shelves of liquor surrounding a ladder. There was even a barrel on its side with a spout. But those weren't the only interesting things. On a table near a bottle of wine, there was a Grey Warden Commander's crest on top of a journal. Probably overstepping his boundaries further as a guest, Alistair picked up the crest and then the journal. Both had belonged to a Warden at some point. Maybe not the same. He looked in the journal and a familiar name was imprinted on the inner leather cover. Alistair snapped the book close and set the objects back down on the table. If he read the journal, he'd dig up old bones that would probably be best left buried. Of all things to be a consequence for snooping. Alistair rubbed his eyes and turned to see someone standing in the doorway. Odd how someone had got past Porker without making the dog tackle them in a frenzy of kisses and love.

"Uh, can I help you?" Alistair asked awkwardly. He wasn't sure if this was some weird, floppy-hatted servant or a figment of his imagination honestly.

"You hurt. You worry about her everyday. Always wondering if she's alright. You care for her. As a friend. As someone you adore." The servant person boy said.

Alistair was flustered, aware of whom he was probably referring to but he wasn't sure how this random boy knew. "I - uh, who are you?" He demanded.

"I brought the journal but I didn't know if it will help or hurt. When you saw it, it hurt you. Maybe I was wrong. Don't worry, you'll forget in a moment!" The boy pushed past him and grabbed the journal and crest before scampering out of the small room.

"Wait!" Alistair followed after him but when he went back into the main room, there was no one but Porker sitting where he'd left him, looking pretty. He forgot what he came into the room for. He hated that feeling. Alistair walked back into the little room and circled around in his thoughts for what he meant to do but it never came. Giving up, he walked back out to see servants coming in with a large basin and buckets of hot water to clean the Inquisitor's horrible concoction off of him as Josephine had promised him. Alistair commanded Porker to sit and stay before he could topple the servants over and spill the buckets. Luckily, the mabari obeyed for once. It would have been embarrassing otherwise. Once the basin was full of hot water, the servants bowed and left after he thanked them.

He let the water cool a smidge before stripping and climbing into the basin. It might've been large enough for an elf but his knees stuck out like little islands from the short length of it. It didn't help that Porker decided he needed a bath too.

"Porker, no!"

Porker, yes!

The King of Ferelden tried to keep the mabari at bay but eventually, the dog being all muscle, got his two front legs into the tub and made water slosh out onto the rugs. Alistair couldn't stop the rest of the invasion and was forced to move as Porker climbed the rest of the way in and sat down, pushing even more water out. The dog panted in satisfaction, enjoying the warm water as his master shook his head.

Accepting the events as they were, Alistair went about cleaning himself up from supplied soap and even went after Porker. The water became a murky brown with dog hair mixed in it. A little shiny floater caught his and he picked it out of the water to discover it was a fish eye. Nope. Alistair got out of the bath and flicked the eye back in the wretched waters. He could now make a guess at what the slop had been and a shudder went through him. Luckily, he had left a few buckets full of water to rinse and that's exactly what he did, scandalously on the balcony facing away from the keep so more water wouldn't splash onto the rugs. He probably shouldn't have bothered to be careful since Porker leapt out of the basin and shook water everywhere. The damage was done and the Inquisitor would learn not to lend her room to guests.

He got dressed in clothing almost identical to his usual attire, not having much sense for style and changing fashion overnight like the Orlesians loved to do. He'd have someone sent for the soiled clothes and rugs to hopefully save them. Honestly, he was half tempted to burn them but a bonfire in the Inquisitor's rooms would probably be pushing the limits of her hospitality. He styled his hair before whistling for Porker and descended the stairs out of the room back out to the throne room, heading to a place where there was dirt or grass or wherever his dog could relieve himself without further damaging the Inquisitor's rooms.


	4. Chapter 3

Maren watched as the Revered Mother left to the gardens where the Inquisitor had just popped out from. She'd encountered a verbal squabble between the Mother and Josephine about electing a new Divine. The Mother wanted the Left and Right Hands of Divine Justinia to aid in the elections but given their current position in regards to Corypheus, Maren couldn't spare her spymaster and friend. The Revered Mother had reluctantly dropped the subject, for now anyway. A new Divine would be needed in order to reunite the Chantry back under one image.

"We're nearly spent and the Chantry still thinks it can walk in here and take what it needs." Maren sighed. She was already done with the religious organization, Maker or not. Clerics had become the bane of her existence as everyone still questioned whether or not Andraste had delivered her from the Fade. Well, they didn't really question it anymore. But that made all the preening and reach out hands to touch the legendary Herald all the more unbearable. The spotlight wasn't Maren's strong suit nor was being touched by random people.

"At least your garden keeps them occupied. A beautiful place to sing the Chant and pray." Josephine smiled wryly. Maren's hands were still covered in fresh soil and she dusted them off on her pants, something Vivienne would have disapproved of if she saw from her balcony. In fact, Vivienne would have scolded her hair as the fiery orange strands hung, still damp, limply around her face.

"I don't think my Elfroot won't keep them distracted for long." Maren turned to her ambassador. "Has our esteemed guest settled in?"

Josephine nodded. "He has. Along with his dog. Fereldans, you know." Lovely. Maren had to worry about the nugs being hunted down now. "You really shouldn't have given him your quarters, Inquisitor." Ah, right. Maren would also have to deal with the leftover hair in her room.

Maren rolled her eyes, knowing Josephine was still pretty miffed about the prank and was stating the obvious to tick her off. "Yes, Josephine. I should have left the King of Ferelden to sleep in the tower Dagna blew up with her experiments." Her tone was playful and Josephine took her turn to roll her eyes dramatically. The pair shared wry smiles before they were interrupted.

"I was going to sleep where?" Alistair asked in an unnerved manner, having come from the direction of the tavern. He had cleaned up like she had and Maren couldn't deny a rather blatant fact. The man was incredibly attractive when he wasn't covered in fish guts and other substances. His hair was almost a light auburn, very close to being her shade of hair color. His clothing complimented his fit form by hugging his body where it mattered and it was incredibly difficult not to notice this now that there was no slop to worry about. No wonder many of the females and some males were pausing to get an eyeful before moving on. Maren had to stop herself from staring and looked around. There was no dog to be seen and the nugs weren't out and about as well. This alarmed Maren. Josephine bowed to excuse herself and left to continue her own errands which seemed endless.

"We used to have decent guest quarters over there. Then someone let our arcanist have fun in the lower levels. By some sort of dumb luck, no one was staying there when the top few levels crumbled." Maren gestured to a spot along the wall.

"Hmm, yes. I thought there was something missing in that general area. Otherwise your decorating is rather appealing. Your tavern has a sign of Andraste carrying you and it's called Herald's Rest. So this begs a question: when you sleep, does Andraste cradle you?" Alistair crossed his arms, looking incredibly too serious about his inquiry.

"Yes and the Maker hand feeds me grapes when I wake up." Maren replied casually. Alistair raised his brows and pointed at her. "I knew it. I called it."

Maren laughed. "Strangely, I believe that." A small crowd had begun to gather in the courtyard, all keenly looking at the backside of the King of Ferelden. In attempt to prevent him from noticing, she began to walk around the stairs and under the archway, out of their view. Alistair followed at her side.

"Is it so strange? You've done some impossible things. Like closing a hole in the sky and going through the Fade physically twice and saving Empress Celene's life."

Maren had to look up at him when she shot him a clever look. "I recall saving yours as well." He looked down at her and smiled. "I still don't eat from those kitchens." He paused at the bottom of the steps when they reached the lower courtyard, looking over the wounded soldiers lying around and gaining aid. Maren paused a few steps ahead and waited with him, wondering if he was going to say something but he was frowning and his brows were furrowed as if he was trying to focus on something.

"King Alistair?" Maren spoke up. He seemed to snap out of a daze before focusing his gaze on her. She raised a curious eyebrow, her unspoken question in the action.

"Sorry, it's just- I don't think I've seen him before but he seems familiar." Alistair jutted his chin out towards a floppy-hatted figure kneeling near one of the injured soldiers. Maren tilted her head to the side but remembered Cole had his interesting set of abilities and he sometimes did some shenanigans that unsettled her other noble guests.

"You've already gotten a visit from Cole?" She asked. Alistair seemed unnerved and it was amusing to see that in a large man but only when knowing what it was from was harmless. Well, Cole wasn't harmless but he didn't intentionally try to harm people unless they were assholes. So far, Alistair didn't seem to be the type to be preyed on by a spirit of compassion.

"I don't think so. I'd remember a hat like that." Alistair crossed his arms. Maren chuckled. "If you say so. Perhaps he just reminds you of a scarecrow." There'd been a lot of statements about the walking scarecrow of the Inquisition. His patchy clothes and ridiculous hat did give him that look and he never tried to correct the rumors. If Cole was trying something with Alistair, Maren would allow it to play out and not interfere. The peace in the keep had been kept because of the small things Cole did, odd and annoying as they were to her cook until the cats danced. Maren had allowed him to continue his work since there was no immediate harm. She was, however, curious as to what business Cole had with meeting the King of Ferelden.

Alistair nodded after a moment of thought before continuing to walk with her. "I guess you're right. I don't think I could pull off that kind of fashion. I'm almost surprised none of the Orlesians here had picked up the idea since he's with the Inquisition and this is a place to start trends."

"Believe me, it happened. The trend died a few days later when some of my more fashionable mages decided to end it with a showdown of their best robes." She was headed for the stairs that led up to the battlements when she heard barking. A dog came streaking from the stables at the pair. Maren stepped to the side as Alistair was assaulted by the mabari, her hands itching to unsheathe the sword on her back that wasn't there out of instinct. But after a few seconds of observation and processing, Maren deemed that Alistair was in no danger and neither was she so she relaxed. The man staggered back a few steps as the dog jumped at him but with a few commands, the dog was sitting obediently although his little tail wiggled with excitement.

"I heard you had brought along a companion. I didn't realize he'd be so handsome." Maren commented. Where the mabari she had encountered in the wild had been less than friendly and some mangled from past fights, this one was a healthy domesticated dog. He looked like a sausage with sticks for legs.

"Ah, yes. This is Porker and he lives true to his name. He snorts and snores and he's the messiest beast you'll meet. But he's incredibly over-friendly." Alistair scratched the dog's head affectionately. Porker's tail wiggled more and the sight made Maren smile. This was probably why Fereldans loved their dogs. Unless they loved the amount of slobber produced. Porker's drool almost reached the ground and that was about where Maren's adoration ended. "It looks like he was rolling around with horses." She observed the straw in his fur.

"He was actually playing with one of the dracolisks." Another voice answered. Maren turned to see Blackwall, having had emerged from the stables as well. As if her immediate surroundings couldn't get even more masculine. His grey eyes met hers and there was warmth in them, as there'd always been. That look had been constant over the past year they'd known each other. But when Maren smiled, he looked away. Right. Their feelings didn't exist. Even after the masquerade in Orlais, he was damn stubborn about denying whatever it was between them. Whatever had been between them, Maren scolded herself.

At the mention of dracolisk, Alistair raised a curious brow at her. His expression was somewhat alarmed and Maren could gather he had seen one before. Perhaps she would play another prank, this time involving Princess, her heavily scarred, old, and ugly dracolisk. Poor Master Dennet had nearly soiled his pants when she first brought the beast home. Ironically, Princess was the most gentle and loving of her mounts. Maren had passed by the stables enough to catch her stable master favoring her favorite mount.

Realising a silence had fallen on the three, four if one included the ever-charming Porker, Maren cleared her throat and went about introductions. "King Alistair, this is Warden Blackwall."

"You're Blackwall? Duncan - my mentor - spoke of you." Alistair's expression had changed to something more wistful.

Blackwall looked away, as if trying to remember the name before nodding. "Duncan. Of course. Good man."

Alistair broke into a smile. "He was. I named my son after him. Sounds obsessive, but it's the best I can honor his memory with."

Blackwall's bushy brows rose and he glanced between Inquisitor and King. "I'm sure he'd be proud of you and pleased by the sentiment. If you'll excuse me, Your Majesty and Your Worship, I've a thing or two that calls for attention."

"Of course." Alistair even moved out of the way for Blackwall to walk past to the way they had came. When the brooding bear was out of earshot, he commented, "He's not entirely what I expected."

"What? You mean the smell?" Maren grinned. She didn't delight in gossip but was it gossip when the whole keep kept trying to prove to the Warden that baths and soap existed? Alistair wrinkled his nose and gave an affirming nod.

"I took him to the ball just see how fast he could clear a room of Orlesian nobles." Maren quipped.

Alistair's eyes widened and his mouth spread into goofy grin that suited him. Some people were made for smiling. "No. Did you really?" He asked in disbelief.

"I did. It didn't even take two minutes."

"That's royally cruel. And equally hilarious." Alistair laughed.

* * *

They continued to verbally dance around small talk as they walked, the Inquisitor giving Alistair a personal tour of Skyhold until the sky had visibly darkened with the setting sun. Josephine had made it her mission to have them found and report that dinner was prepared. Dinner, as it was a private matter dealing with allies, was being held in Maren's quarters. Well, the guest of honor's quarters. Anywhere else would have hidden eyes and ears.

It wasn't a large table nor was it small, big enough to hold a mini feast. A roast chicken and slab of ram took the center point with various other dishes, including cheese, rumored to be the King's favorite food. Maren was able to bear witness to the damage already done to her room. It wasn't as bad as she thought but her rugs squished with dampness and there was already mabari hair everywhere. They took their spots at either end of the table and Porker took his under, head on Alistair's lap in case any of his meal magically fell from his fork.

"So," Alistair asked after they had served themselves the food and wine, "If I have your quarters, where did you clean up?" The question had obviously been bothering him for the entirety of the afternoon.

Maren finished a chicken leg and swallowed before answering. "I, uh, used a barrel in the cellars. No one goes down there. It's bit dank and it's probably haunted."

"The ghosts must've had a thrill." Alistair spoke and then froze, as if he hadn't meant for that to slip out of his mouth. He busied himself by drinking wine while Maren tried to pray the color in her cheeks away. It was an innocent joke, nothing more. Right, a small voice sarcastically denied what she was trying to mentally cover it up as.

Maren cleared her throat and sipped her wine with dignity. "So, alliances." She changed the subject and the slight tension in the air disappeared.

"Ah, right. I think our hug before confirmed that agreement." Alistair smiled with charm. He recovered easy. Thinking back on the embrace earlier made Maren start dwelling on small thoughts she had refused to acknowledge.

"But we'll need to sort out details and such. Like if Ferelden could lend aid to the Inquisition when we make our final attacks against Corypheus." Josephine would strange her if she didn't get anything actually diplomatic accomplished at this dinner.

"You didn't get that from the hug? That was all there too. All in writing, signed and everything."

Maren raised a brow, silently begging him to be at least a little official. Alistair seemed to have caught the message and put aside the witty commentary. "Of course. Ferelden is willing to aid the Inquisition, should you need men or food. But, I do have a request."

"A request?"

"Since Empress Celene's rule is...no longer as challenged, she's finally agreed to strike up peace talks with Ferelden. I," Alistair paused, sighing, "I have no skill in the Game and I was hoping that you, who are in the good graces of the Orlesian Empress, could be present as a mediator of sorts."

Maren looked thoughtful before nodding. It wasn't an outrageous request, like some Orlesians scandalously asking for a game of Wicked Grace with her inner circle that ended in an orgy. "I'll fulfill your request."

Alistair looked visibly relieved as he leaned back in his chair. He picked som ham from his plate and slyly gave it to Porker when he thought she wasn't looking. To save him some pride for his stealth, Maren said nothing. "Well, now that the important business is over, how long do you plan to stay?"

The King looked around her quarters and shrugged. He looked at her again and grinned. "I don't know. It's quite cozy. Maybe a week or a few months. Maybe I'll move here from Denerim and make this my base of operations." Maren knew he was joking, he was a King after all. He had important affairs better kept at his own keep. But the idea of not having her quarters for longer than she expected made her pause initially before she had processed he was teasing her. Her reaction urged laughter from him and eventually a smile from her.

"Definitely more than a few days, if you'll have me." He finally managed after his chuckling settled down.

"If you wanted to stay a little longer, you can. I'm treating the Iron Bull to a dragon hunt in two days and it would be bad manners if I didn't invite my guest of honor." Maren spoke casually, as if she handed these invitations out like flowers.

Alistair looked dumbfounded and while it was Maren's turn to laugh, she stifled it down to a cocky smirk. "You're treating someone to a dragon hunt? And you're inviting me?"

"Yes."

"I shouldn't. But I will. I've been through worse."


	5. Chapter 4

Had Alistair been through worse?

This dragon encounter was taking either second or third on his list after it had swooped down from the mountain peaks. Swooping was bad. They were not too far from Skyhold, maybe three miles. A high dragon had roosted in the Frostback mountains too close to the Inquisition's liking, thus the gift to the Iron Bull to slay the beast before trouble brewed.

They'd already been at it for at least five minutes, hacking and slashing at the beast's appendages. There was a lot of blood everywhere on everyone, making spots on the ground slippery. The huge Frostback roared with annoyance as a large Qunari, the Iron Bull, leaped up and slammed the blade of his large battle axe into the beast's thigh. The dragon shook it's leg and Bull lost his grip on his axe and fell off, bouncing of to the side. To see something that large be shaken off like an insignificant pest made Alistair regret taking up the Inquisitor's offer.

Currently, said Inquisitor was armored to the teeth and wielding a two-handed great sword. She ran as if her armor didn't inhibit her actions and swung the sword in easy arcs. Maren wasn't anywhere near petite but her feminine figure in her official clothing had made Alistair underestimate her strength. Clearly, as she sliced the other thigh of the beast, this woman's power was something to be reckoned with. It made sense, given that she would have to face Corypheus eventually and hopefully defeat him. Seeing as how she handled herself against a dragon, puffing with pride and grinning just as madly as Bull, Thedas had a good chance.

Unfortunately, Maren's actions caused the dragon whirl on her. The huge tail came at him and Alistair barely had time to roll back, clutching his sword and shield close.

"I could do this all day!" A voice said behind him, somewhere on his left. It came from the Tevinter mage, Dorian, as sparks flew from his staff and hit the dragon right where Maren had sliced a deep wound. They were all mad! But the hell he was going to be left out of the glory of this kill. Shaking off his amazement about the group's coordination and ballsy attacks, Alistair ran up to the back leg Maren had attacked and jumped, raising his sword and sliced at the open wound. Something snapped and the dragon's leg went lame. The Frostback shrieked into the air. The dragon twisted its head to look back at him and Alistair's blood ran cold when their eyes met. The chilling moment was interrupted when Maren thrusted her blade into the dragon's neck and dragon let out a gurgling growl as it swept out an arm and swatted at Maren. Alistair could barely strangle out a call of warning as the Inquisitor went flying and landed hard against the rocky ravine they were combatting in.

"Boss!" Bull cried out after having recovered his own weapon. The dragon was drawn to his outburst and swatted Bull with its tail. It wasn't as effective against the hulking Qunari and Bull was only knocked off his feet.

Then the dragon turned to look at Alistair.

Maker's balls. This brought back memories.

The great sword was still in its neck and Alistair could see the rest of the blade as the dragon opened its maw. He didn't stand still ogle further. Alistair ran at the dragon and dodged its jaws to slip under it. He ran further to the chest and stabbed up. The Frostback roared in pain and suddenly its body was falling on Alistair. A blast of energy knocked him to the side just in time before he was crushed by the limp body. Alistair landed hard on his shield and grunted at the awkward contact. He looked over to Dorian who gave him a little salute, the source of the last minute save.

Alistair stared at the dragon, unsure if it was actually dead but the corpse didn't move.

"Boss!" The Iron Bull cried out again, back on his feet and running to the crumpled figure. In his stare down with death, Alistair had forgotten about the Inquisitor. Now, fear ran through as he dashed to Bull's side and kneeled over her unconcious form. Her hair had come loose from its bun and her face had scrapes along the right side of her face, the side she had landed on the rough ground after being swatted to the side like some fly.

"Fasta vass." Dorian murmured as he came upon the scene, limping.

"She's breathing but I can't tell how badly - Dorian you're bleeding." Bull looked up at the mage.

"Oh really?" Dorian looked down at his leg, the one he was obviously favoring. The blood was soaking through his pants and robes, an injury sustained from when the dragon had swiped at him when he had gotten too close. "Do you think it'll stain my robes?"

Alistair's brows shot up. That was what he was concerned with? "Doesn't it hurt?" He asked.

Dorian shrugged. "Not right now but I suppose in a few minutes I'll be shedding a tear or two."

"We need to get back to Skyhold." Alistair said hurriedly, placing his shield on his back. He could forget about the sword. No way he was going to crawl under a dead dragon to retrieve it.

"You carry Boss and I'll carry Kadan." Bull agreed and stood, sheathing his own axe on his back. Alistair nodded as Bull began to chase a hobbling Tevinter mage to swoop up in his arms.

"There is no need!" Dorian cried out as the Iron Bull neared.

"Oh, give up your pride, Kadan. At least in my arms you'll be warm." Bull was obviously amused about the situation. He eventually caught up to Dorian and the mage was cradled in his large arms. Honestly, it held a picture of a parent holding a child with the size comparison. Dorian crossed his arms and frowned but didn't make further struggles. Bull did set him down for a quick second to help Alistair get the Inquisitor on his back before sweeping the mage back up in his arms. They tied her hands together over Alistair's chest so her upper body didn't fall backwards.

Alistair had grunted under the extra weight. It was a struggle for him to stand, reminding him he wasn't in his prime anymore, but he managed to get upright without toppling them both over. Fortunately, Skyhold was only an hour away. Unfortunately, Maren had refused to bring horses. Something to do with all of them dying the last time they'd encountered a dragon. It had been a logical decision before she got knocked out. Maker's Breath she was heavy, especially with her armor on.

Alistair was very aware of Maren's soft breathing against his neck and he could feel how firm her thighs were in his hands. It sent chills down his spine, reminding him that this was the first time, in a very long time, he had been in such close contact with a female other than Anora. Heat creeped up his cheeks and he felt young again in that moment.

Bull gave him a calculated look, probably assuming the color in the King's face was due to the strain. "I can carry them both, if you want. One over each shoulder." Dorian scoffed at the idea of being so rudely handled and said sharp some quip in Tevene.

Alistair shook his head to clear budding perverted thoughts and gave a grimacing smile, mostly from the mental image of both injured parties hanging over the Iron Bull's shoulders like sacks of potatoes. "I can do this. What kind of legend would I be if I couldn't carry a woman back to a castle?"

Bull chuckled. "If you say so."

* * *

Fuck legends. Alistair's arms burned with exertion as the keep finally came into view in the distance. It was another good twenty minutes before they'd reach the gates. They'd already paused, for his benefit, just ten minutes ago. Alistair was dreading to have to ask for another one when Bull set Dorian down gently and waved at the castle. A flaming arrow was shot from the ramparts into the sky. An agreed sign of reinforcements.

"We'll rest here until the Chargers come pick us up." Bull smiled at Alistair knowingly before settling down next to Dorian. Their physical closeness made Alistair realize that these two were intimate with each other. Behind the playful bickering, there was endearment. And Alistair had to be a little bit honest, he was jealous of the pair. He would have liked someone to look at him the way Bull looked at Dorian. Well, the look of concern Bull was giving Dorian. Not the absolute predatory glint he had when they were leaving Skyhold. That look may have promised sex between them but Alistair feared such a look from a women was one of vengeance.

The King of Ferelden found a boulder large enough for himself and Maren, still strapped to his back, to sit on. His knees cried with relief and he had to resist palming the Inquisitor's thighs as they settled in his hands. He quickly withdrew his hands and placed them firmly on his knees, rubbing out some of the burning feeling.

The cool stone under them must've been enough to summon the Inquisitor back into reality because she stirred and pressed herself against him as if trying to preserve warmth. Her breathing tickled his neck but it was nothing near the sensation of feeling her lips move against his skin. "Did I get it?" She murmured. If Alistair wasn't so tense about the sensation of her mouth moving, he would've laughed at the first words she said after waking up.

"Yeah." Alistair answered matter-of-factly. It wasn't a whole lie. Maren had done quite the number against that beast even if Alistair had gotten the last blow in that ultimately defeated it. Besides, who was counting achievements right now? It'd been easy to get along with the Inquisitor because she didn't make everything a competition because of his own past with the Blight. They were both unfortunate characters thrown into unfortunate destinies and tried to roll with it.

"Maren: 2, Bull: 1." He could hear the amusement and triumph in her sluggish voice. Alistair tried not to wonder if that was how she sounded when she woke up in the morning. Maybe she did make competitions over silly things but dragon slaying could hardly be considered silly, especially after Alistair's recent experience.

Maren seemed to descend back into sleep and she nuzzled his neck. Alistair had to remind himself that she was delirious, lest his heart get leashed to another bout of puppy love that hadn't ended as fortunately as one might have hoped. First loves were always a bitch. Not that Cousland had ever been a bitch. Not to him anyway, mostly to the darkspawn. Another reason why his admiration stayed strong to this day.

Alistair continued to sit there until Bull's Chargers arrived, pondering over the sudden bloom of these feelings and what he would do with them. Only time could tell, unfortunately.


End file.
